Raccoon
by Iyosana-Hari
Summary: They say a raccoon doesn't change it's stripes with a walk through the dirt. Similarly, death hasn't seemed to change Adrian R. Harris. At least not too much. Slight Starris, Fluffy. Oneshot but might continue, if motivated.


Stiles stretched after he hurriedly got out of Derek's cramped back seat. He probably heard Scott and Isaac mutter sleepy goodbyes before Derek took off down the street. He gave a weak, insincere wave at the car. He honestly couldn't care about anything more than his bed and sleeping until his father forced him awake tomorrow afternoon. He deserved a good dozen hours after dealing with three Hales from 12am-4am on a Friday, to do research. Not to mention the pinched nerve he earned twisting his shoulder when he snuck out. He failed to see how everyone so easily broke in through his window. Peter had "fixed" his injury, but the rough remedy had left his whole upper back horribly sore. He had no delusion of trying to sneak back in. His dad had probably collapsed in exhaustion, with little if any effort to see if Stiles had snuck out, especially since his car was sitting in the garage cold with lack of use. Even if his dad was pulling an all-nighter, he would probably be too absorbed in work, or at this hour too drunk, to notice Stiles sneaking in the front door. He waltzed in the front door, gently closing the front door before jumping into the air at the sight of two figures sitting in the living room.

"Holy—God!" There sat his dad interviewing a disheveled Adrian Harris. "Harris! I thought you were dead!" His father gave a disbelieving glare. Harris simply looked at him and gave a small wiry smile.

"Nice to see you as well Mr. Stilinski…" Stiles flailed, not meaning it the way Harris seemed to take it.

"N-No, I mean-…" His father cut in.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing out at this time of night?!" Stiles just stuttered.

"W-Well, I-I… Why is there a dead guy sitting on our couch?" The sheriff growled at Stiles redirect.

"Mr. Harris is obviously not dead Stiles…" His dad said as if warning Stiles to behave.

"Sorry, previously dead." His father gaped at Stiles' purposeful lack of tact.

"I woke up in the woods… This was the first place I thought to come to… I was sitting against the door when your father got home… I was just telling your father the last things I recall." Stiles shot off immediately after hearing the way Harris said that.

"So, dying?" Harris stiffened at that. It took several seconds for the man to give a nod.

"Yes…" Stiles looked at his father, trying to determine if he had told the teacher Miss. Blake had already confessed to murdering him. He got an obvious no. He thought this had all been put to a rest.

"Well, do you know who killed you?" Harris looked completely uncomfortable even guilty.

"Yes… And no… It had threatened me into helping it… I can't give you a name. But I had seen the face it used once. I can give a description." Harris seemed nervous yet eager to help.

"That won't be necessary." The Sheriff looked at his son and jerked his head toward the dining room. Stiles took the hint and fetched the file with Jennifer Blake's picture in it, bringing it to his father. His dad pulled out the picture and showed it to the teacher. Harris looked relieved and ghostly pale all at once. "Is this the woman that killed you?" Harris hesitantly nodded.

"She's… been caught then?" Harris asked handing back the picture.

"Yes, and arrested on several charges. Amongst them being your… murder." Harris looked at the ground.

"How many people did she kill?"

"Collectively? 11 people…. Five before you, five after." Harris ran his hand down his face, and Stiles couldn't help but put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harris looked up at him, seeming surprised.

"It's not your fault. You did your best to point us in the right direction, even if it was the last thing you did. If it wasn't for you, more people would probably be dead." Harris opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. For a second, Stiles thought he was going to see his teacher cry. But suddenly the professor stood and hugged his pupil tightly and quickly before pulling away.

"Thank you Stiles…" Stiles' father stood and moved to guide Harris to the door.

"I'm going to escort Mr. Harris home. If you aren't in bed before I get home we are going to have a very serious discussion about curfew." Harris stopped before following his father out.

"Oh, and Mr. Stilinski… If you fall asleep in my class on Monday, I'll give you detention for the rest of the year." Harris smiled, and Stiles smiled back. He hadn't even had time to realize he missed his teacher.

"See you in school, Mr. Harris."


End file.
